


Our Last Winter

by jaxkion



Category: Jack Frost (1979), Rise of the Guardians (2012), The Joy of Painting (TV)
Genre: Cosplay, Flash Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 00:50:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14842445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaxkion/pseuds/jaxkion
Summary: Bob Ross knows this will be his last winter. He spends it trying to capture the memory of a Boy he once knew.





	Our Last Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [st_ivalice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_ivalice/gifts).



> A challenge I made when I was at a con to find the weirdest cosplay pairs and write flash fiction based on them.  
> The couple that inspired this were a Bob Ross and Rise of the Guardians Jack Frost. I didn't spend too much time on it, but it was a fun challenge. For some reason romantic overtones? (I'm sorry Bob Ross)

Bob looked out at the snow drifts, and tried not to get lost in old memories. He turned back to the incomplete landscape on the canvas before him. The whites and blues had an emptiness, they were missing the spirited heart of winter. The snow was fresh and unmarred.  
As he had done every year since the winter he had turned 16, he had come up to an old reclusive cabin at the first signs of snow. He told people it was for his art, that the first snowfall always brought him the most inspiration, but that wasn’t really it and in his age he didn’t lie to himself.  
The reasons the paintings never found their heart was because Bob was lost trying to recreate an old memory. He would do anything to relive that winter. No matter what he did those old embers smoldered in his heart, warmed every time he saw the snow fall.  
How many years had it been now, and still that flame refused to die?   
A chill passed through him causing him to gasp, his breath white. Bob felt his pulse quicken.  
“Jack?” He whispered into the empty cold, but cursed himself “Fool.” He could almost see his face.  
On the coldest nights, Bob could still imagine Jack there with him, keeping him warm. The hot breath on his neck, nothing like this cold chill, and yet Bob couldn’t help but think of Jack anytime frost nipped at his nose.   
More than once his imagination had tricked him into seeing a silvery apparition that looked so like the vibrant boy he had known in his youth. As he would reach out to touch the ghost he would blink and all that would be left was the snow from the moment before.   
Bob turned back to his pallet and began to mix colors. He ignored the pain that was riddling his body. In his heart he knew this would be the last winter he would be spending trying to capture Jack. 

Jack did his best to give Bob something beautiful to paint when he came to visit. Unable to resist, Jack reached out to touch the wild mane of curly hair and beard. He could see the chill pass through the man.  
“Jack are you there?” Bob called out and it pained Jack that he could do nothing else to assure his old friend that he was still there. The youthful twinkle in Bob’s eye had never faded, and when Jack looked into his eyes he was brought back to the time they shared in life.  
Can you feel me here with you Bob? Jack felt his heart skip a beat as he peered over the painter’s shoulder to look at his latest piece. It was a perfect likeness of Jack as he was now, he had known he was there the whole time. In spite of himself Jack began to cry in happiness.

“I’ll call it ‘Frost’ for my dear friend Jack…” Bob turned and was surprised to see a small powdering of snow on the ground behind him, he smiled. “I will be with you again soon.”


End file.
